I'm Not Cute!
by L-chan the Great
Summary: That idiot Spain always knows just how to turn Romano's world upside-down and inside-out.  Nation and human names used interchangeably, and rated T for Romano's "elegant" way of speaking.  Because it wouldn't be a Spamano fic without it!
1. Chapter 1

**Ok, ok. I swear I'll get back to my more serious story after this. I just needed to get this Spamano fixation out of my system. So, it currently doesn't hav much of a plot, but the last story I said didn't have a plot developed a very scary one. This will be the humor I write when I either have writer's block, or I need a break from a particularly glum story. If you guys want I'll be happy to come up with some kind of side story for other pairings. So, without further ado, enjoy!**

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><p>Romano was brought out of his sleep by a tickling on his earlobe. He brought up a hand to brush it away. The sensation retreated, and he settled in to continue his nap. Just as he slipped back into dreamland, the tickling returned. He identified it as a finger running over his ear, down the back of his neck, and back up again. If it was who he thought it was, that man was going to have hell to pay. Once again, Romano brushed the finger away, with a small groan of discomfort, trying to communicate to his assailant his irritation without having to do more than brush the annoyance away. There was a small laugh, and he felt hot breath against his skin as the finger continued its path.<p>

Three… Two… One…

"You tomato eating bastardo! What the hell are you doing? I was fucking trying to sleep!" Romano leapt to his feet and began to pound the life out of the smiling idiot who had just disturbed his siesta.

Spain grinned and bore the brunt of Romano's attack with good humor. "Aw, Lovi~! You're so cute when you're angry!" Antonio gushed, his smile widening.

Lovino slapped the idiotic Spaniard. "What the hell? Don't tell me you fucking woke me up from a great dream to say that!" he half-screamed. "And I am not cute!"

Antonio only laughed and pulled the small Italian into a tight embrace. "Of course not, querido! You were just sleeping so long that you were going to miss dinner, so I thought I'd wake you so we can begin cooking," he replied.

The Italian's face turned red as a tomato at the contact. "It's Feliciano's turn to cook dinner, and what the hell do you mean _we _can begin cooking?" Lovino shouted, mostly to cover the slight tremor that developed in his voice. Since when did this bastard make him so nervous?

The Spaniard placed his hands on Lovino's shoulder and pushed him away so the two were face-to-face. Lovino's breath caught at the close distance. Two inches, and he could just kiss—kill the bastard! How dare he make Lovino this flustered! Before either could speak, the younger nation slapped Antonio hard across the face again, and jumped to the other side of the couch (on which he'd fallen asleep earlier that day). Antonio only laughed at the sight of his small love panting wildly, looking very much like a cornered animal, a flush painting his face.

"Wh-what is it, bastard?" Lovino made sure to maintain the distance between them, afraid of the painful pounding of his heart.

Antonio smiled that idiotic smile of his. "Oh nothing, just thinking how cute you were, all hot and bothered like that~!" He paused to watch the Italian burn with embarrassment at the statement; then cut him off before he could think up a comeback. "Anyway, poor Feli is sick. Probably from something he ate." Lovino knew they shouldn't have accepted Alfred's offer for lunch. He had no idea how the American had managed to convince his picky eater of a brother to eat at that horrid fast-food joint. Lovino himself was feeling a little under the weather from the horribly greasy burger he ate.

"So? You can fucking make dinner by yourself then! I'm going back to sleep!" With that, Lovino curled back up on the cushions to continue with his nap. Then he realized what was off about the situation. He shot up again. "What the hell are you doing in my house?"

"Well, I heard Alfred treated the Italian brothers to lunch today, so I assumed you'd be a little sick and decided to come take care of mi little querido~!" he explained.

Lovino shot Antonio a fierce glare. "You better not tell me you told Alfred to treat us to lunch just so we could be sick, as part of some huge master plan of yours." A sheepish smile adorned Spain's features as he said this. Mierda! "You bastard!"

They around the living room as Lovino attempted to murder the conniving Antonio, and the latter attempted to avoid his impending death. Finally, Romano ran out of energy. He collapsed on the couch to regain his breath. "You… Bastard… I'll… Kill you…" Lovino panted.

"I knew mi tomate was strong enough to resist Alfred's food~!"

"Bastardo! You tried to poison me!" Lovino paused to breathe. "And I'm not a fucking tomato, idiot!"

Antonio wagged his finger. "Ah, I didn't try to poison you, querido! I only wanted to make you dinner!"

"You poisoned my brother!" That statement seemed to give Lovino a burst of energy, and he launched himself at Antonio. The two nations tumbled to the ground, Lovino on the top, trying to strangle the life out of Spain.

"Vee~. Fratello, what's going on?" The commotion had awoken Feliciano, who came into the living room, worried his brother was being murdered.

Lovino looked up from trying to kill Spain. His younger brother definitely looked sick. Feliciano's face was a faint shade of green, and he had to lean against the wall for support.

"Ah, big brother Spain~!" Feliciano tried to run over and tackle the older nation, but stumbled. He decided it was safer to remain by the wall, where he could remain in an upright position. Suddenly, he noticed Lovino on top of Antonio. "Eh? Fratello, what are you doing to big brother Spain?"

Antonio waved, as if nothing was wrong. "Hola, Feli~! Me and Lovino are just spending some quality time together!" he said.

Feliciano tilted his head, curious. "Vee~, are you two having sex?" he asked. Lovino felt a wave of heat crash over his body as he realized the suggestive position the two nations were in.

"As a matter of fact we were—ouch!" Antonio had to cut off short to nurse a large bump on his head from Lovino's fist.

"We were not fucking having sex, you perverted bastard!"

"Then why are you on top of me, Lovi~?" Antonio question teasingly.

Lovino wrapped his hands around the offending nation's throat and began to throttle him. "You know very well why I'm fucking on top of you, so don't twist the situation around or I'll fucking kill you, you fucking asshole!" he yelled.

"Ehh! Fratello, you're going to kill big brother Spain!"

"That's the fucking point!"

"Fratello!"

A few minutes later, Antonio was freed from Lovino's lethal grip, and Feliciano was sent promptly to bed with the promise of pasta for dinner. Spain and Romano were in the kitchen, with the former watching Lovino's trembling fingers attempt to tie the apron strings securely around his waist. Antonio moved to stand behind the small nation and took control of the situation, grabbing the strings.

"There you are, Lovi~! All tied!" Antonio said cheerfully.

Romano blushed. "Gratzi… Bastardo," he added under his breath. Antonio chose to ignore the insult, taking it instead as a term of endearment (in which case, his dear Lovino spewed words of love from his precious lips quite often), and he moved to the counter.

"I'll cut the tomatoes, and you prepare the water for the pasta," Antonio said.

Lovino rolled his eyes. "It's not like that's very much work, idiot," he muttered under his breath, but did as he was told. Seconds later, the pot of water was set on the stove to boil, and the Italian busied himself with other preparations necessary for a good dish of pasta.

They worked in surprising silence for the next few minutes. Even more shockingly, it was Lovino who first broke the comfortable silence that settled between them. "I'm surprised that the potato eating bastard didn't hear about Fratello being sick, and isn't over here being stupid and lovey-dovey toward him," Lovino commented.

Antonio put down the knife. "Oh, that'll probably cheer Feli up! I'll call Ludwig right now~!"

As he reached for the phone, a small knife sunk into the wall right next to his outstretched hand. Antonio looked nervously at Lovino, who was glaring daggers at the Spaniard (including the one he'd just thrown).

"Don't you fucking dare!" Lovino snarled. "I don't want that idiot anywhere near my fratello! Knowing him, he'd just make it worse!"

Before Lovino knew what happened, he was enveloped in another of Antonio's bear hugs. His breath caught at the suddenness of it all. "Oh, Lovi~! You're so cute when you're being so protective of Feli~!" he gushed.

Lovino forced himself to breathe. "I—idiot. Of course I did, he's my brother," he said; voice a lot softer than it had been that afternoon.

He felt Antonio stiffen slightly, unusually still, even for a hug. "Lovino?" he said tentatively, his voice a more serious tone.

"Wh—what?" Lovino felt a sense of foreboding at the other nation's strange behavior.

"I love you, querido."

Lovino exhaled in relief. "Idiot. That's all?"

"Say you love me, too."

Romano felt the heat pool in his gut, spreading through his entire body. Although technically the two nations were lovers, Lovino denied the notion at every mention. Both parties knew the deep feelings they had for each other, despite Lovino's insistence to the contrary, since the days when Romano, separated from his brother in Spain's household, worked as a maid to the light-hearted idiot.

"You know I do, already!"

Antonio's arms tightened fractionally. "Say it, por favor."

"I…" Lovino cleared his throat. "I love you, too… Toni," he added, for emphasis.

"Aw, Lovi, you said my nickname~! Que linda~!" Antonio suddenly had the tiny nation in a bone-crushing hug.

"Damn it, bastard! Let go of me!" he gasped. Lovino struggled against Antonio's grip. "We've got pasta to make! Let go!" He was no match for the thrilled nation, who was busy placing kisses on every inch of available skin. Lovino punched Antonio in the head, and finally succeeded in being released from the prison that was Antonio's arms. He quickly scuttled to the other side of the kitchen, glaring at trying to look intimidating.

"And for the last time, I am not cute!"

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><p><strong>I know, sounds pretty generic right now. As I was writing this, though, I came up with a little conflict next chapter, so hopefully that'll make it a little more unique! Until next time, ciao!<strong>


	2. Chapter 2

**What is this? Two chapters in two days? Well, that's summer vacation for you! Don't get too used to it, though! I already had an ideo for this chapter as soon as I got the last one out. Anyway, enjoy!**

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><p>Lovino woke up the next morning cuddled against Antonio. The older nation was still fast asleep, so Romano resigned himself to remain curled against his warm chest. Not because he wanted to, mind you, he just didn't want to wake the Spaniard, because Romano was just that nice. He listened to the sound of Antonio's soft breathing and felt his lover's heart beat just beneath where his head lay. It wasn't like there was anything to do. No world conferences, no pressing matters to attend to, no meetings to make… All was good.<p>

Except that yesterday the weather man said it would rain that day. Romano hated being wet and cold, and the rain just so happened to be both wet and cold. All the more reason to stay cuddled up against the still-sleeping Antonio. He was ready to spend the entire day in bed, in just his boxers, with Antonio (as long as that idiot kept his boxers on the entire time and didn't try to do anything perverted).

And then he noticed that Antonio wasn't wearing them.

The Spaniard woke with a sharp pain as his head bounced against the floor. He sat up where he had fallen, rubbing his head gingerly. "G—good morning, Lovi," Antonio said in a pained voice. "You're quite energetic today." He yawned.

After kicking Antonio out of the bed, Lovino had pulled the blankets around him, as a kind of security against the pervert now lying on the ground. A fierce blush adorned his cheeks as he tried very hard not to check out Antonio's (sexy) body. "What the fuck? Where the hell are your clothes, you fucking pervert?" he demanded to know in a slightly shrill tone.

Antonio looked down at his body to check his clothes-less condition. "Well, it gets hot at night, and I always sleep naked at home," he said, with a smile that was oblivious to Lovino's obvious embarrassment.

"Well, put some fucking clothes on, you tomato bastard!" Lovino looked around the room for where Antonio discarded his clothes. He was so sure the Spaniard was wearing clothes when Romano (reluctantly) allowed him to stay the night.

There was a dip in the bed as Antonio got on. He leaned in close to Lovino, who blushed even harder. "What is it, bastardo?" he asked, trying as hard as he could to keep the stutter out of his voice.

Antonio smiled. "You're so cute when you're embarrassed, Lovi!" he claimed, and pulled Lovino into a hug.

"I said put some fucking clothes on!" Lovino yelled, burying his face in Antonio's chest, but of course it was only to hide his red face, nothing else!

The Spaniard chuckled, stroking Lovino's head. "Whatever you say, mi tomate," he said.

"I'm serious!" And Antonio fell unceremoniously to the ground for the second time that day.

With the best sense of timing in the world, Feliciano burst into the room. "Fratello, big brother Spain, thank you so much for the pasta~! I feel much better now~!" And he tackle-hugged Antonio to show his appreciation, not noticing the man's state of undress.

Antonio smiled and stroked Feliciano's head as he had done Lovino's, sparking a pang of jealousy in Romano's heart. "Of course, Feli, anytime~!" he said, not noticing the murderous aura running off of Lovino.

Lovino, meanwhile, fought back jealousy and focused on his anger. "You fucking idiots! That tomato bastard is naked!" he yelled.

Feliciano sat back a little and noticed for the first time Antonio's lack of clothes. "Vee~? You're right, Fratello. Why are you naked, big brother Spain? Did you and—?" Feliciano's question was cut off by a pillow thrown at his head.

"Don't even fucking say it, or I'll kill you!" Lovino said.

Antonio smiled nervously. "Lovi, you should probably be quiet," he said, thinking of the neighbors now.

Lovino turned the full force of his anger to the poor Spaniard. "This is your fucking fault! Get out of my house, bastardo!" he yelled.

Next thing Antonio knew, he was thrown out the front door, still naked. The door slammed shut behind him. He pounded on the door.

"Lovi, I'm sorry! Please let me back in!" he cried.

The door opened, but only for his clothes to be thrown out. "And don't come back, tomato bastard!" Lovino yelled the second the door was slammed shut again.

Antonio dressed quickly, before he could be arrested for public nudity. "I won't leave until you forgive me, mi little tomate! I'll wait for you!" he called. There wasn't a response, but he knew Lovino was probably just inside the door, listening. He smiled and sat down, preparing for a long wait as the two stubborn personalities struggled. It was a test of love!

Meanwhile, Romano was trying very hard to forget Antonio's vow to remain outside the door until he was forgiven. He didn't doubt Antonio would actually do it—it was something that idiot would stick to. So Romano settled down to ignore it. He flopped down on the couch, turned on the TV, and made the volume sky-high. It wasn't to drown out Antonio's yelling, because that idiot had fallen silent. It was to drown out Feliciano's annoying crying. His younger brother was upset that Lovino had gotten rid of his "big brother Spain", and that the two were fighting. Instead of yelling back at the crying Italian, and making things worse as he usually did, he uncharacteristically ignored it, hence why he was watching TV.

He didn't even know what he was watching. Images and words just wrapped around his brain then filtered back out through his ears without making much of an impression, besides the throbbing headache that was accumulating because of all that noise.

"Mierda!" he swore loudly, flipping off the TV in resignation. Silence met his ears. Feliciano must have worn himself out from all that crying and had fallen asleep. Perfect. Lovino stretched out on the couch, attempting to fall asleep as well, but something in the back of his mind was nagging him to stay awake. It was that damn Spaniard. He just couldn't stop thinking about that smiling idiot long enough to relax. Damn it, damn it, damn it! Guilt wormed its way into his stomach. No, it wasn't guilt. It couldn't be guilt, because Romano was never guilty! It was all that tomato bastard's fault. Antonio should be the one feeling guilty, not him. The feeling must be hunger. Of course it was hunger! Romano hadn't eaten yet that day, because of that idiot. Nope, it just couldn't be guilt.

Chewing on his lip, Lovino hoisted himself up and wandered into the kitchen. He heard the soft tap of rain on the window. A wicked grin spread over his face. Luck must be on his side today, because Antonio hated being wet and cold almost as much as Lovino did! It reminded the Spaniard too much of the suffering defeat of the Spanish Armada, that cold day on the ocean, and the subsequent tortures Arthur forced him to endure. If the rain kept up, then Antonio would surely go home. He just knew it.

Reassured that soon the Spaniard would be home and out of his mind, Lovino focused on finding something to eat. Normally on days like these, when Antonio stayed over, the older nation would make churros for breakfast. Fresh off the stove, still warm, covered in cinnamon and sugar… Lovino found himself drooling, longing for those warm sticks that Antonio would have made. Antonio… Maybe he should let Antonio back in so he could make those delicious…

No!

Lovino shook his head to snap himself out of the daze. The Spaniard must be home already, or at least going home! The rain had picked up its wild tempo, and there was no way Antonio would put himself through the torture of enduring it. Through sheer willpower, Lovino forced himself to forget Antonio and had some left-over pasta instead.

After he ate, he went back to the couch to take a nap. After a couple hours of fitful rest, Lovino decided that he wasn't going to sleep peacefully like this. He got up after yet another broken dream and went to turn some music on. Music always helped him to clear his head.

And it worked, until a certain song came on: _Danse Macabre_ by Saint-Saenz.

The beginning was hard enough to listen to. The twelve strokes—midnight—then the quiet, stalking notes that sounded so much like someone creeping up on their prey. He forced himself to just let the music flow through him, but if you've listened to this song before, you'd know it's difficult to not be affected by it. Usually he loved the song, enjoying the full seven minutes, just imagining an entire graveyard of skeletons dancing to the tune of the devil's violin. But today, it brought dark thoughts, doubts, to his mind.

What if Antonio was still there?

No, no, no, he couldn't be. The tomato bastard was an idiot, but not that much of one.

But he vowed to remain until Lovino had forgiven him, right?

But it was fucking raining outside!

Didn't Antonio always say how much he loved Lovino, and that he'd do anything for the small Italian?

But Antonio hates the rain! It makes him completely miserable!

But Antonio always put up with Lovino's violence.

Even if Antonio was still outside, that was his problem! That idiot should learn to take care of himself, first!

It's been hours since the rain started…

By the end of the song, Lovino was completely on edge. He stroked his curl nervously, not feeling any of the heat it usually sent right to his gut. Antonio couldn't still be outside, could he? That would just be torture.

"Mierda! That bastard is a fucking masochist!"

Lovino gave in and ran to the door to see if Antonio was still there, waiting.

Antonio was. He was curled in a ball, just to the side of the door, his clothes soaked through. It broke Lovino's heart to see his lover sitting there, looking like a kicked puppy. Worse still, Antonio was trembling, whether it was from cold or fear of whatever memories he had, Lovino had no idea.

"Why are you still here, you idiot?" Lovino sounded angry, more at Antonio's disregard for his own health than anything.

Antonio gave a weak smile, still shivering hard. "I p—promised I'd w—wait until you f—f—forgave me," he replied, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. He sneezed and Lovino was by his side immediately.

"Idiot, you caught yourself a cold, I bet! And you made me have to come out in the rain to get your sorry ass!" Lovino complained, although there was tenderness in the insults that made Antonio's smile grow.

"Sorry, Romanito," he said, as Lovino helped Antonio to his feet and brought him inside.

"Shut up, idiot," Lovino said softly.

Once inside, Lovino helped Antonio strip off his dripping wet clothes. Sitting the Spaniard on the couch, he tossed him a towel. "If you dry off, I'll let you sleep in my bed until you're not sick anymore," he said. Although he made it sound like is was a deal made grudgingly, Antonio knew that Lovino would let him sleep in the bed even if he was still soaked through.

Lovino went into the kitchen to prepare something hot for the clammy idiot while he dried off. While it was heating up, he returned to help Antonio into his room. He tucked the Spaniard into bed.

"This is the second time you're naked in my bed, you bastard," Lovino pointed out affectionately, smoothing Antonio's damp hair from the older nation's pale face without really thinking about what he was doing.

Antonio smiled. "Aw, you're so cute, Lovi~." There was a definite drop in the amount of energy Antonio put into his compliments.

Lovino blushed as he realized he'd done so cheesy without thinking. "Sh—shut up! You're lucky you're sick, or I'd kill you, tomato bastard!" And he ran out of the room.

The smile never left Antonio's face. "Lovi is so cute," Antonio remarked out loud.

Minutes later, Lovino was back with a bowl of steaming soup on a tray, with a glass of orange juice. "Here, tomato soup, so you get better quickly." He set the tray carefully on Antonio's lap.

"Gracias, Lovi~!" Antonio said. He grabbed the spoon and attempted to maneuver it to his mouth. He was still shivering so badly that the spoon threatened to dump its contents into his lap. Lovino quickly removed it from those trembling hands.

"Here, I'll do it for you," he said, a blush reddening his face.

"Aw, you're so sweet, Lovi!"

"Sh—shut up! This is just because I don't want you getting my blankets all ruined with the soup because you can't eat by yourself!" he said.

"Whatever you say, Lovi~!"

Lovino chose to ignore Antonio after that and to focus on feeding him. After the bowl was empty, he helped Antonio to drink the juice; then took the tray back into the kitchen.

"Lovi~!"

"What is it?" Lovino asked with voice still soft.

"Take a nap with me~! It's cold!"

Antonio was expecting the Italian to put up more of a fight, and say something about not wanting to get sick. Surprisingly, Lovino gave in right away. "Fine, since it'll make you get better more quickly if I'm there to warm you up," he said.

"Yay, te amo, Lovi~!" he said as Lovino got under the blankets beside him.

They curled up together, much like they had been that morning. Lovino traced circles on Antonio's bare, still clammy chest. "I love you, Toni, so don't do stupid things like freaking yourself out and getting sick anymore ok?" Lovino said.

"I'll do anything for you, Lovi," he whispered back. He could tell how deeply Lovino was affected by his demonstration from the complete lack of insults or cuss words in his statement.

"Then take care of yourself… Idiot." And Lovino curled closer, nestling in close to Antonio. They fell asleep with their fingers intertwined.


	3. Chapter 3

**Ok, this is really unusual of me to get so many chapters out in so few days, but it's really easy to write about this mismatched couple, and I've come to love this story as much as I hope all of you have.**

**Also, thank you for all the kind reviews. It makes me so warm an fuzzy inside when you guys say how cute the fluff is. So congratulations to you all for effectively distracting me from my other stories.**

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><p>A pounding at the door woke Romano from his peaceful sleep. He groaned, rubbing his eyes with the hand that wasn't engulfed in Spain's large hand. "What is it?" he called sleepily.<p>

"Fratello, Ludwig is here to take up to the world conference today~!" Feliciano said from the other side of the door. Lovino was mildly surprised he didn't just barge in.

"Hold on!" he called. "Ugh, that fucking potato, waking me up. Mierda!" he muttered to himself, not caring that he was being irrational about it. He really hated the German who'd stolen his affectionate brother's heart. Out of anyone who found that damn box, why did it have to be that bastard?

Antonio's eyes opened a fraction at the commotion. "I don't think I can go today, querido," he said, his throat hoarse.

Lovino panicked slightly. "What do you mean? You aren't really that sick, are you?" he asked, sitting up in bed.

The only response he received was a coughing fit. Lovino pressed a hand to Antonio's forehead, and was shocked at how warm it was. "Damn, you're right. Well, mierda, I guess you'll stay here in bed then. When I get back, I'll make you some tomato soup and you can take a hot bath, ok?" Lovino outlined the plan of action, blushing slightly at the thought of Antonio taking a bath. He quickly banished the image, reminding himself that he didn't deserve to be fantasizing when it was his fault that Antonio was sick in a first place.

Wait, it was that bastard's fault for sitting out in the rain for three fucking hours!

"Lovi, are you ok? You're looking flushed," Antonio asked, his voice immediately filled with concern. Lovino looked away.

"Damn it, I'm fine. Worry about yourself for once, idiot," he said. He glanced back to see Antonio staring at him with a wide smile on his pale face. "What?" he snapped, embarrassed to have so much focus on him.

"You're so kind, Lovi~! It's cute~!" Antonio responded.

Lovino blushed. "Idiot, I'm not cute," he muttered crossly.

Feliciano decided to poke his head in the door. "Vee~ is fratello and big brother Spain coming? Ludwig is getting mad and he's really scary when he's mad, because he yells, and reminds me of England, and it makes me wanna hide," Feliciano said, shivering at the end of his monologue.

The older Italian only rolled his eyes. "Antonio is sick, so he's staying here. I'll be out in a second," he said.

"Vee, fratello didn't say mean words to me? Yay~!" and with that, Feliciano was content to skip out of the room.

Again Lovino rolled his eyes. "He's such a fucking spazz, it's annoying as hell," he told Antonio, who smiled.

"You're being so kind today, Lovi~!" Antonio commented.

Lovino blushed while he glared at the bedridden nation. "Shut up, I'm always nice, you idiot!"

Antonio laughed at Lovino's response. "Of course, of course~!"

Lovino pulled on some nice clothes from his closet, with Antonio smiling and commenting on how cute he looked every few seconds. With a quick goodbye, Lovino left his lover to join Ludwig and Feliciano in the living room.

The German glared angrily. "About time you showed up! We're going to be late! Punctuality is everything for a soldier, do you understand?" he scolded the Italian.

Lovino glared back. "Shut the fuck up, you potato eating bastard! What the hell are you talking about being a good soldier for? You lose every time! You suck ass at being a soldier!" he pointed out.

Ludwig wasn't about to back down. "Better than you Italians! You run away every time you think you see England!"

"Bastardo, you do want to fight?" Lovino clenched his hands into fists and advanced towards the taller German. Although everything each of them said was true about the other, neither were actually willing to admit it.

"Fratello, don't be mean to Ludwig~!" Feliciano said, attaching himself to his boyfriend affectionately. Ludwig seemed to not know whether to enjoy the contact or to shove his boot into Feliciano's face.

Lovino pointed an accusing finger at Ludwig childishly. "He started it!" he said petulantly.

"Vee, Luddy, be nice to fratello, si?" Feliciano turned his affectionate face up to Ludwig as he said it. The (hard-ass) German surprised Lovino by blushing slightly.

"Don't call me Luddy," he said with a cough. "Anyway, we should be going either way."

The three arrived at the World Conference meeting without further incident, except for Lovino muttering a string of insults directed toward the German, but the other two pretended not to hear. It was a common routine, before Antonio had made it a habit of picking Lovino up recently. Lovino quickly shook his head as memories of that infuriating Spaniard assaulted his mind. This wasn't the time for that, it was time to get down to business. So he instead spent his energy on coming up with insults for the various other nations. With Antonio sick and in _his _bed (that would put a damper on his siesta, he'd have to risk getting sick as well because of that idiot), Lovino was in a far worse mood than usual.

Which Alfred, oblivious to the atmosphere as always, decided to test out by making his way to the fuming Italian.

"Yo, Lovino! Check it out, it's my latest kick-ass plan to solve all the world's problems. Isn't it awesome?" the American said, holding up a diagram of the same superhero he always suggested, except this time it was colored yellow.

Lovino was saved the trouble of coming up with a few choice insults by Arthur beating him to the punch line. "It's the same thing you always suggest, you blithering idiot!" the British nation shouted from the other side of the conference room. Mierda, Lovino felt a headache coming on.

"Shut up, Iggy! You're just jealous of my awesomeness!" Alfred retorted with just as much, if not more, of the obnoxious volume.

Then, out of nowhere, the annoying Prussian had to pop up. "Did someone say something about me?" Gilbert asked.

"No, dude, I was just saying how _I'm _awesome," Alfred told the albino.

Gilbert glared. "You're awesome? You must be blind or something, because you can't even compare to _my _awesomeness!" he boasted. Great, just what Lovino needed. Two inflated egos trying to pop each others' balloon.

"I'm the hero!" Alfred said, striking a pose. "And the hero is always awesome! Seriously, dude, haven't you read any comic books?"

Arthur had finally made his way to the argument by Lovino's side. "You both are just a bunch of bloody wankers! And you're comic books are just a load of bollocks!" he said to Alfred.

The American's mouth dropped open at the insult to his precious comic books. "Dude, you're just jealous!" he said accusingly.

"Why would I be jealous of a bloody ignorant fool like you?"

By now, the argument had snowballed into a full-on physical fight. Skipping the "strangle the life out of each other" phase, both nations had proceeded to kicks and punches. Prussia, never wanting his "awesome self" to be left out of anything, had needlessly joined the fight, screaming something about how "conquering all your vital regions".

Lovino, meanwhile, had had enough of everything. He pushed his chair back and stood up, fully prepared to give the three idiots a piece of his mind (particularly Gilbert, that idiot who always hung around Antonio). Once again, someone beat him to it, as Ludwig, the strict German soldier he always was, called for attention. He gave the usual lecture, and laid down the rules for the meeting.

At which point, as always, Feliciano said something about pasta, in his annoyingly cute voice. Unfortunately for him, Lovino was still red-faced with pent-up anger, and took it out on his poor younger brother's head, with a "shut the fuck you, you fucking idiot". At that, the younger Italian bust out crying, and ran to attach himself to Ludwig's leg.

"Luddy, my fratello is being mean to me! He hit me, and it hurts, andandand…" and so it went. Lovino didn't hesitate to vent out his anger, yelling at the crying Feliciano, as if that would be any help. Francis decided that it would be a great time to try and "calm Lovino down", as which said Italian didn't take kindly to, and pushed and punched at the Frenchman, yelling, "Get your fucking hands off of me, you perverted bastard!"

Eventually, Ludwig managed to get everything back to order. Lovino was still angry, Francis was still in pain, and Feliciano was still sniffling, but there were no more incidences for the rest of the meeting. No one fought, but nothing got accomplished either. America asked for support for his latest war, while Britain rolled his eyes and said that he should support his own bloody wars (and very nearly starting another fight), but other than that the meeting was boring. Lovino wished that he'd stayed home with Antonio. Not to take care of that idiot, though! Just because he hated being at these meetings.

Finally, it was over, and Lovino was out the door in a flash before he could get caught in the crowd. Before he could get to Ludwig's car, however, someone grabbed his arm. He spun around to see Arthur.

"What the fuck do you want?" he snapped, not in the mood to talk. "Don't you have to get back to your fatass boyfriend?"

Arthur glared. "Oh bugger off, I can destroy your nation in an instant! I just wanted to know why Antonio wasn't here. He's always with you."

"Why do you fucking think he's not here? He's obviously sick, dumbass!" Lovino responded, with a glare. Even more than that German bastard, he hated the English nation. He remembered the trembling mess Antonio became in the rain, lost in his thoughts. It was all Arthur's fault. "And what do you care? You fucked him up!"

Arthur looked taken aback by the accusation. "That was centuries ago! It's different now," he pointed out.

Lovino rolled his eyes. "Whatever, just fuck off you bastard!" And he did what Italians did best—he ran away.

"I just wanted to know you bloody wanker!" Arthur called to Lovino's retreating back, seething. How dare that brat treat him so rudely! With a huff, he walked away with as much dignity as he could muster, with Alfred, who had just come out of the room, chasing after him.

Lovino was scared of the memories Arthur's face was bringing up. He remembered waiting, fearful that he was left alone once again. There was so much waiting, and when Spain finally returned, he was in bad condition. Cuts and bruises covered his entire body, but still that idiot had a smile on his face for Lovino. Everyone was gone, except for him, and Lovino did his best to help Antonio out. Lovino remembered his inability to do much, except make food everyday, but that was mostly just pizza and pasta. Antonio, as fucked up as he was, taught him new recipes, comforting Lovino when he was down about something, even when it hurt Antonio to even move. Most of all, Lovino remembered the guilt, of not being able to do anything, only making a mess of things, and the person he wanted to help the most was the one rescuing him.

He wiped at his eyes irritably. "Damn it, remembering this stuff isn't going to help anything!" he told himself. It shocked him to find his eyes were wet. He was crying? Over that idiot? "Damn it! Stop crying! Fuck!"

His eyes were still shining with tears when Feliciano and Ludwig got into the car. Lovino kept his face down, and if the two noticed anything, they didn't say anything. The entire ride home, Lovino was fighting back the painful memories, the ones of his uselessness, and instead focused on getting home to Antonio.

The second the car pulled in front of his home, Lovino was out the door. The car was still rolling when Lovino opened the door and jumped out. Feliciano called after his brother as he stumbled down the side walk and disappeared through the front door. He was about to follow the older Italian when Ludwig set his hand on Feliciano's shoulder to stop him.

"Maybe you shouldn't go after him," Ludwig advised, unusually sensitive to the situation.

Feliciano was oblivious to the possible cause of Lovino's distress. "Vee, why is that Luddy?" he asked absently.

Ludwig suppressed the urge to grab hold of the steering wheel and smash his own head repeatedly against the thinly padded metal. Instead, he forced a frightening, awkward smile, which was supposed to be reassuring but only succeeded in sending shivers down Feliciano's spine. "So we can… Go on a date," he forced himself to say.

"Vee, what about fratello?" Damn it, he was going to kill his empty-headed boyfriend. But he supposed that was what he loved about the Italian.

He forced himself to maintain that awkward smile. "Lovino has… Antonio there. So he'll be… fine." It was out of Ludwig's character to say things like that, but he made himself say them anyway. He had no idea why he was protecting that annoying little Italian's dignity. It was probably for Antonio, yes that was it. Even though the Spaniard's empty-headed personality was no better than Feliciano's, Antonio was still an okay guy who made Lovino bearable. And kept the violent nation out of his car.

Feliciano smiled. "Ok, then! Let's leave it to big brother Spain and go on a date, si?"

Damn it, Antonio owed him for this. "Yeah, sure." Ludwig was going to miss out on the sausages he was going to eat that night.

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><p><strong>Drama drama drama. I don't like how I made Arthur there in the end, but oh well. I want to put some kind of background in there. It can't just be fluff all the time. I was going to end the chapter with a Spamano moment, but decided that would be better for the beginning of the next chapter. Not many Spamano moments here, but they'll be back in full force next time, I promise!<strong>

**Until next time, ciao!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Ok, I told myself I wouldn't update today. I was going to write only a little bit, and then upload in a couple days. But somehow my computer pulled me right back in. But don't get used to it!**

**Anyway, I'm not to comfortable with this chapter. It feels like a half-assed attempt at a plot, but I guess it's ok. What do you all think? Please enjoy and I'll try not to be back tomorrow!**

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><p>Lovino didn't hesitate in running straight to his room after he got out of the car. He had his mind set on one thing, and one thing only. If there's one thing about Italians, it's their one-track mind, whether it's running away or getting what they want, and there was no doubt Romano was Italian in every aspect (if there ever was before). Before Antonio could even greet Lovino, the Italian tackled him, disregarding the fact that he was obviously still sick.<p>

"Lovi?" Antonio breathed, trying to get the breath that Lovino had knocked out of him back.

The Italian sobbed loudly, shocking Antonio with a display he hadn't seen in years. "Don't even fucking leave me again, you idiot!" he cried, burying his face in Antonio's chest. If the Spaniard had been wearing a shirt, it'd already be soaked with Lovino's tears.

"What are you talking about, querido? I didn't go anywhere, you were the one gone," Antonio said gently, stroking Lovino's hair lovingly.

"That's not what I mean! Don't leave me, ever, please don't ever leave me!" Antonio was thoroughly confused by this point.

"Querido, what happened? What's wrong?"

Lovino didn't seem to hear Antonio's entreaties. "Ti amo, bastardo! I love you, I fucking love you, so don't leave me! I love you, you idiot!" Antonio wasn't sure whether Lovino was angry with him or just really missed him.

"I love you, too, querido. Don't worry, I won't leave, ever. I'll always be here for you, Lovi," Antonio assured the sobbing boy as he stroked Lovino's hair.

Finally, Lovino looked up at him. His eyes were red and puffy and shining with still-unshed tears. "Promise? You'll never leave me?" His voice sounded so remorseful it broke Antonio's heart.

"Of course, Lovi! I promise. I'll be with you forever. Te amo, querido." He kissed Lovino's forehead for emphasis.

It was a while longer before Lovino could calm down, while Antonio held him and comforted him. When Lovino realized what he was doing, the sobs started anew, and he said something about "causing fucking trouble when you're the fucking hurt one", and tried to crawl away, but Antonio kept his arms tightly wrapped around his love, insisting it was fine.

When the sobs died away to sniffling, Lovino buried his face in Antonio's chest once again. "I'm sorry, Tonio. I'm crying just like stupid Feliciano does all the time like a fucking idiot. I'm sorry, I'm just like him." His voice shook when he got to the end of the apology, threatening to turn back into wracking sobs.

Antonio kissed the top of Lovino's head. "No you're not, Lovi. You aren't like Feli at all. It's fine to be upset sometimes, but Lovi will always be Lovi, and mi querido," he said.

"But you're sick, and I should be taking care of you, but here you are comforting me, and it's all my fault, and I'm just causing trouble for you!"

"No, Lovi, you're no trouble at all. It makes me feel good to comfort you. Boss will always be here for you," Antonio assured him.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry! I—!" Lovino began.

Antonio pushed Lovino away, pressing their foreheads together so Lovino couldn't miss the serious look in Antonio's eyes. "Listen, Lovi, I'm not mad about anything. You're my cute little Lovi, and I love you, and I'm happy to comfort you when you need it. You hear me? I'm _happy _to do it." And then Antonio brought their lips together.

It was a gentle, chaste kiss, but the sensation of soft lips against his own stirred the butterflies up in Lovino's stomach. When Antonio pulled away again, he felt his heart beating against his breastplate, trying to break from his chest to be with Antonio's heart. The kiss effectively shut him up, his mind reeling with all kinds of conflicting emotions, but one remained—the feeling of absolute and undying love for the person holding him.

"Now will you tell me what got you so worked up?"

Lovino tentatively explained, watching for how Antonio would react. "Well, Arthur asked where you were today…"

"Arthur did?"

"Yeah, and that made me remember why you were sick, and why you hate being wet and cold… Because of when Arthur kept you for those long months… And I remembered when you came home, all hurt and weak…"

"But Lovi, that was so long ago!"

Lovino shook his head. "That's not why though. It made me think about waiting for so long, thinking you'll never come back home. I—I was scared that you'd never come back." It wasn't the full story, but Antonio could fill in the blanks.

When he was just a tiny nation, it was just him, his grandfather, and his fratello. There were no "parent nations" to help take care of them. Then one day, his grandpa just up and left, without even a goodbye. That alone broke Lovino's heart, but then the other nations suddenly came in, and started a huge fight to control Italy. Lovino and Feliciano were separated. He even changed households several times before finally coming to "work" for Spain. With all the bonds broken, it was no wonder that Lovino insisted on pushing everyone he cared about away, and always tried to prevent new bonds from forming. Antonio knew that the pain of breaking beloved relationships must have been unbearable for such a young nation, and left a deep scar in his heart. Then Antonio one day disappeared for months, without a goodbye… He could understand Lovino's deep-seated fear.

"I swear I'll never leave, Lovi. I'll always come back for mi querido. Besides, who'll make sure you don't kill yourself with pizza and pasta if I'm not here?" Antonio joked.

Lovino sat up and glared. "Shut up, bastard, I can cook plenty of dishes by myself," he said.

Antonio stroked Lovino's curl, bringing a blush to his cheeks. He jumped off the bed. "Bastard! I told you not to touch that!" he shouted, panting wildly.

The sight of Lovino, back to his old self, made Antonio smile. "I know, but you're just so cute, Lovi~!" he said.

Lovino stormed out of the room. "I'm making lunch, you bastard, and you'll be lucky if I bring you any!" he yelled over his shoulder.

Antonio could help but feel a bit of triumph that he had gotten away with calling Lovino cute. He waited patiently for his cute little Italian to return. There was a loud commotion, and a lot of swearing. Antonio laughed. Lovino was really hopeless, even after all this time. Since he moved out of Spain's household and in with Feliciano, Lovino had probably made his airheaded brother do all the cooking and cleaning, like Antonio had done for him so long ago. Even after all these years, Lovino was the same as ever. Antonio smiled fondly at the memories.

Lovino returned shortly later. "I didn't want to let the leftover pasta go to waste, so I just heated that up instead of making something else," he said, but the blush on his face told Antonio that he messed up in making something else. He looked up and noticed the goofy grin on Antonio's face. "What the hell are you smiling for, bastard?"

"Just remembering when you were in my house for the first time. You were so cute, Lovi~! You couldn't even wash yourself, and needed me to help you~!"

Lovino's cheeks flamed. "What the hell, I don't remember that!" he said, embarrassed.

"And I had to cook and clean your room~!"

"That's just because I didn't want to do it myself!" Lovino insisted.

"Remember for my birthday, you tried to make me breakfast in bed, but you nearly burned the house down? You ran to me crying, and you were just so cute~!"

"Bastardo, stop bringing up stupid memories only you remember!" Lovino demanded, his cheeks burning in embarrassment.

Antonio laughed, but remained quiet for a moment to eat the left-over pasta Lovino had heated up. "It's delicious, Lovi~! You're great with a microwave~!" he teased.

"Don't mock me, pomodoro bastardo! As soon as you're feeling better, I'll kill you!" Lovino vowed.

Antonio set the plate aside, still laughing. "Que linda, Lovi~!" Before Lovino could insist that he wasn't cute, the doorbell rang.

"Fratello will get it!" Lovino said hastily, unwilling to leave Antonio's side—but only because he didn't feel like getting up! And who knew what havoc the idiot Spaniard would wreak if Lovino left him alone again.

They waited, but no one answered the door and the bell rang again. Lovino groaned. "Fratello! Fucking get the door already!" he called. Silence met his ears, broken by insistent pounding on the door. "Damn it!"

"I don't think Feli is here, querido," Antonio said with a smile.

"Damn it, I know that. I bet that fucking potato ran off with him after the meeting. Mierda! Maybe they'll go away," he said hopefully.

His hopes were dashed when, five minutes later, the knocking and doorbell ringing continued. "Mierda! Well, get some fucking clothes on so I can get the door. It better be fucking important!" Conceding, Lovino left his seat on the bed to go answer the door. He opened it, grumbling irritably.

"Hey, Romano, how's—?" The person didn't get a chance to finish as Lovino slammed the door in their face.

"Mierda! What the hell are they doing here?" Lovino looked truly pissed off now.

Antonio walked into the living room. The bastard looked perfectly fine for someone who had a cold, which only worsened Lovino's mood. "Who is it?" he asked, with that pleasant smile of his.

"It's your idiot friends!" Lovino said. Two pairs of hands pounded on the door, their owners demanding for Lovino to open it.

Spain laughed. "Lovi, it's not very nice to slam the door shut when someone's friends come to visit," he lectured teasingly.

"Fuck you! They're annoying as hell!" Lovino said, leaning back against the door just in case the idiots on the other side decided to be rude and just barge in.

Antonio put his hand on the doorknob, trying to push Lovino to the side, but failing to move him. He sighed. "Maybe later, but my friends are here now, so you should move."

"Later? What are you?" Then it clicked in Lovino's mind what he was referring to. Too stunned to even yell at Antonio for being a perverted bastard, a blush crept across his cheeks. Antonio, on the other hand, took the opportunity to move the Italian to the side and finally open the door.

"Antonio! We came to see how you were doing, since you weren't at the meeting today!" Francis greeted with exuberance, attaching himself to his Spanish friend gleefully.

"Yeah, and you look pretty awesome for a sick person. I mean, not as awesome as me, but that's not really a fair comparison," Gilbert added, stepping inside.

Antonio grinned at his friends. He was completely oblivious to the hand Francis had snuck up the shirt he'd put on just five seconds ago. "Si, well Lovi has been taking such good care of me that I feel better already!" he said.

Gilbert noticed the Italian rooted to the spot where Antonio moved him out from in front of the door. "What's wrong with Romano, anyway?" he asked. He poked the still-stunned nation's cheeks curiously.

The Prussian's touch seemed to snap Lovino out of his stunned spell. He slapped Gilbert's hand away. "Don't touch me! It's that fucking pervert's fault, right there!" he shouted, pointing a finger in Antonio and Francis's direction.

Francis stopped the exploration of Antonio's skin that his hands were currently conducting. "Who's the pervert, moi?" he asked innocently. Antonio laughed softly at the accusation.

Lovino's face was still a bright red. "No, not you! I mean, yes you are, but that's not what I was talking about! Just… Just get your fucking hands off of him!" Without warning, Francis received a shoe to his head.

Antonio smiled down at the semi-conscious Frenchman. "Oh, Lovi, it's not nice to throw things at guests~!" he said, not sounding upset at all at Lovino's actions.

"Toni, why do you say it like you don't care about moi?" Francis cried.

Gilbert gave a loud laugh and stroked the bird on his shoulder. "That's just what happens when you're not awesome like me! Right, Toni?" he boasted, slinging an arm around Antonio's shoulders.

Lovino resisted the urge to run into the kitchen, grab a knife, and proceed to dispose of his intruders. "My house is full of idiots," he muttered darkly.

Antonio smiled sympathetically at Lovino. "Hey, Lovi, do you think you could heat up some more pasta for Gilbert and Francis~?" he asked in his most manipulative tone.

Lovino shot him a glare as Gilbert and Francis let out a cheer. "Yay, a cute little boy is making dinner for moi!" Francis said, afterwards earning an 'accidental' elbow to his face from Antonio. "It better be as awesome as me!" Gilbert said. Lovino was moments away from killing all three of them.

"Fine!" Mierda, Lovino couldn't just ignore Antonio's request, after he said it so sweetly, and in front of his friends. Although a little too much spice in the pasta never hurt anyone… Except for a certain Prussian and Frenchman.

Coming up with malicious plans, Lovino retreated into the kitchen to make a special dish for Antonio's friends. The details of Lovino's dish are unimportant, but the next day both Gilbert and Francis were bedridden and miserable. Unfortunately, karma never lets a slip like that go unpunished, and the week after, it was Lovino's turn to be in bed, sick with the cold Antonio passed onto him.

"Don't worry, mi tomate~! I'll stay as long as you're sick to take care of you~!" Antonio promised, with a wide smile.

"Damn it! When the hell are you going home, bastardo?"

"Aw, Lovi, don't be like that! I love you~!"

"Damn it, damn it, damn it, let go of me!"

"But you're all sweaty, querido, so I'm going to help you change~!"

"I can fucking change by myself! Damn it, bastardo! Let go of me, you pervert!"

"Que linda~!"

"Mierda!"

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><p><strong>Yeeeeaaah, I'll let you all use your imaginations there. Anyway, I meant to bring Feliciano in to talk about his date with Ludwig in this chapter, but it didn't work out like that... So next chapter will be dedicated to Feliciano and Ludwig! I hope you like GerIta fluff. If not, ignore the next chapter, hehehe. Until next time!<strong>

**Ciao~!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Yes, I managed to not update for an entire day! *victory dance* Actually, the only reason I didn't was because I wasn't home all day. I thought about it A LOT though. I almost managed to keep myself from writing today, but my favorite Spamano fic, Underwater Land (I think it's called) updated, so I just couldn't resist!**

**Anyway, this chapter is shorter than I wanted it to be, and I just couldn't get as much GerIta goodness as I wanted in it! I hope you like it anyway, and I try again sometime soon!**

**I've got this idea for a Halloween Spamano special, but that's months away! Dang it!**

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><p>Objective one achieved! Get the nosy little Italian away from his distressed older brother and boyfriend. Now to just keep Feliciano away for a good amount of time.<p>

"Vee~ Luddy, where are we going~?" Feliciano asked, obviously happy (er, happier than usual) to be going on a date.

Good question.

"I thought we'd make it up as we go along!" Ludwig said. Anyone else would have seen through his thinly veiled lie, and would have called him out on it. Not Feliciano, though. If he noticed anything, he kept silent about it.

"Yay, sounds fun~!" he said and turned his attention to the various shops just outside the car window. "Oh, there, let's go there!"

Ludwig recognized the place Feliciano pointed out as a small family-owned ice cream parlor. "Er, shouldn't we eat lunch first," he said uncertainly.

Feliciano turned his face to the German with a large puppy-dog pout that just melted his hard heart. The small Italian really was adorable, for all his annoying mannerisms. "Aw, come on, Luddy, please?" How could he say no to a face like that?

He sighed, recognizing defeat, and turned to park the car. "Fine, but don't be complaining about a stomachache later," he warned his date.

"I won't, I won't~!" Feliciano practically sung, already on the edge of his seat.

Ludwig got out first, and hurried to the other side to open Feliciano's door. The Italian hopped out and immediately attached himself to Ludwig's arm. "Thank you for opening my door, Luddy~!" he said, grinning that adorably goofy grin.

The German coughed to mask the blush that always crept across his cheeks when Feliciano acted like this (which, unfortunately for his reputation as a cold German soldier, was quite often). "It's only normal, since I asked you on this date," he said, trying to keep up a façade of indifference.

"It makes me so happy~!" Feliciano insisted, snuggling up against his arm.

Ludwig couldn't help himself; he pulled the Italian into a tight embrace. People on the streets stared, but for once he didn't care. Feliciano was just too much for him to handle. Said Italian squeaked a little with happy surprise, and then cuddled up against Ludwig's chest.

Finally, Ludwig had to break the hug as his stomach gave a deep rumble. "Let's go eat some ice cream then," he said, taking Feliciano's hand.

Ludwig ordered a plain vanilla cone, which Feliciano made fun of its lack of creativity, which Feliciano himself got a scoop of cookie dough and a scoop of chocolate malted crunch. When they turned to leave, they came across Alfred holding two ice cream cones, each with three scoops of all sorts of colorful ice cream. He was working on one cone while the other slowly melted, dripping down his hand and curling around his wrist. He licked it off quickly.

"Oh, hey guys!" Alfred called to them when he noticed the couple.

"Hiya, Alfred~!" Feliciano sang happily, eating his own ice cream.

"Waiting for Arthur?" Ludwig asked, motioning to the second ice cream cone.

Alfred nodded. "Yeah, he's got stuff to do right now, so I'm meeting him in the park in an hour. I just thought I'd have myself a small snack before we had lunch together," he said, grinning.

Ludwig stared at the strange American. "Two ice cream cones?"

Alfred shrugged his shoulders. "Yeah, I know. Usually I don't have two ice cream cones. But I've only got two hands and Arthur isn't here to hold a third one…" His eyes lit up with a sudden idea. "Oh, I've got an awesome idea! What if I genetically modified myself with octopus DNA? That would be totally kick ass, and I can eat all the ice cream I want!"

Ludwig sighed heavily. He didn't even know the words "genetic" and "DNA" was in the American's vocabulary. "I don't think it works like that…" he muttered.

Feliciano tapped a finger against his chin, as if seriously considering the idea. "But wouldn't the ice cream melt before you could eat it all?" he asked, as if that was the most crucial problem in the situation.

Alfred twitched his fingers, but couldn't snap them with the ice cream in his hands. He settled for nodding instead. "That's right! Oh well, I guess after I eat this ice cream, I can just go buy two more," he relented.

Ludwig resisted the urge to clap a hand over his face in annoyance at the idiocy of the two. He took a huge bite of ice cream to calm his nerves. "Speaking of the park, let's go for a walk in the park, Feliciano," he suggested.

Feliciano beamed up at him. "Ok~! Wanna come, too, Alfred?" Ludwig inwardly groaned. He'd wanted to get _away_ from the American, but his excessively-friendly boyfriend didn't make that any easier. Silently, he hoped Alfred would be able to read the tense atmosphere surrounding Ludwig and politely refuse the offer.

Unfortunately, this was Alfred, and Alfred couldn't read the mood to save his own life. "Sure, sounds awesome!" he said, jumping to his feet. The chair he was sitting in knocked to its side. Frowning, he attempted to balance on one foot and maneuver the chair to an upright position with the other. When he failed that, he shrugged. "Let's go!"

"I thought you were going to meet Arthur soon," Ludwig reminded him tensely. To anyone else, it would be obvious that Ludwig didn't want Alfred around. Of course, this _wasn't _anyone else.

Alfred shrugged his shoulders in dismissal. "I'm meeting him in an hour. That's plenty of time to hang out in the park!" he said.

Ludwig sighed heavily, resigning himself to an entire hour with the infuriating American. "Fine, then, let's go."

"Hey, Feliciano, I'll race you to the park. If you lose, I get the rest of your ice cream!" Alfred challenged the Italian.

Feliciano's mouth dropped open. "No, not my ice cream!" he cried melodramatically.

Alfred gave an evil laugh that definitely did not fit the threat. "Yes, your ice cream! Hear, Ludwig, hold my ice cream."

"Mine, too~!"

Suddenly, Ludwig found himself alone, with three more ice cream cones than he'd had a second ago. His two companions were already far ahead. "Hey, get back here, you two!" he called in vain, and attempted to run after them with his arms full—not an easy task.

He arrived at the park to find both Alfred and Feliciano on the swings. "Hey, take your ice cream back!" he demanded.

"Oh, you can throw those away. I'm done anyway," Alfred said. "Hey, I bet I can swing higher than you," he challenged Feliciano.

"Mine, too~!" Feliciano called down to Ludwig as he accepted Alfred's challenge.

Anger just below his boiling point, Ludwig stomped to a trash can to dispose of what was left of the melted ice cream. A colorful mess stained the white shirt he wore underneath his military uniform (saved for wear during the world conference meetings). He went to a bathroom to try and wipe it off, but the sticky ice cream refused to wash away. When he went back out, Alfred and Feliciano were taking turns jumping off the swings, trying to get farther than each other.

An hour later, both nations were still going strong, which surprised Ludwig. Feliciano wasn't exactly known for his stamina, after all. They'd practically torn the playground apart, moving from the swings, to the slide, to the balance beam (where they played some kind of balancing game and tried to knock each other off), and then to the monkey bars, where they did a variety of things, such as try to get across the fastest and try to kick the other off. Although Ludwig wasn't apart of this major competition Italy and America were having, he was content to see Feliciano having fun.

"Oh, there's Arthur! Catch you later, dudes!" Alfred said, and ran off to join the man he'd been waiting for.

Feliciano sat down on the bench, next to Ludwig. He swung his legs in a carefree manner, humming the tune of some song Ludwig didn't recognize. His cheeks were flushed from exertion, but he had a bright smile. "I'm having so much fun today~!" he said, leaning against Ludwig's arm.

"I'm glad. We should go to my place to eat a late lunch, or wait it out until dinner," Ludwig suggested.

"Ooh, can I sleep over~? It's been so long! Please, Luddy?" Feliciano looked up at him like an abandoned puppy.

He sighed. "Sure, but you have to make dinner then." Although he made it sound like the deal breaker, it was already a given that Feliciano was going to cook for them. Ludwig's cooking was no match for the Italian's gourmet tastes.

"Yay, we can have some pasta~!"

Ludwig sighed. He _really _wanted wurst, but that wasn't going to happen. Maybe tomorrow night…

The next day, at home, Feliciano was attempting to tell Lovino all about his date with Ludwig.

"And then we went to his house, and after dinner, we—!" He was cut off by a shoe to his face.

"I don't want to hear about that Potato, damn it! I don't even want to think about what you guys did after dinner!" Lovino yelled.

Antonio wandered into the room, wearing only boxers (Lovino was thankful he was wearing at least that). "Ehh, what did you and Ludwig do last night? I want to hear~!" he said.

Lovino glared as Feliciano went over. He plugged his ears while his younger brother and Antonio talked about the younger Italian's date. Suddenly, he found the Spaniard in front of him.

"What do you want, bastard?" he asked.

Antonio picked Lovino up and threw him over his shoulder. "Oi, bastard, put me down!" Lovino shouted.

"I just want to try something Feli told me about~!" he said cheerfully.

"Have fun with fratello, big brother Spain~!" Feliciano called after them.

"Damn it! Put me down!"

Antonio did, and Lovino found himself in the kitchen. The Spanish bastard was way too close for comfort. "What the hell are we in here for?" he demanded to know, a blush reddening his features as a multitude of thoughts (very few of them clean) ran through his mind.

"Aw, you're so cute, Lovi~! Getting all embarrassed over making some pasta~!"

Lovino stared. "Pasta?"

"Yeah, Feliciano told me about a new recipe he tried out with Ludwig, so I wanted to make it with mi querido!" Antonio said brightly.

Then the Spaniard had to dodge a carefully aimed punch to his face. "Damn it, bastard! You did that on purpose to get me embarrassed!" Lovino shouted, trying to land a hit.

Antonio backed away. "Maybe~!" he said playfully.

"I'll fucking kill you!" Lovino charged at Antonio with murderous intent.

"But I'm still sick~!"

"Obviously not if you're tossing me around, you bastard!" Lovino shouted, but then paled as Antonio fainted. "Damn it, stop exerting yourself like that!" He helped Antonio back to bed.

"Sorry, Lovi, I'll be fine soon," Antonio assured his little Italian.

"If you fucking move from this bed one more time until you're better, you bastard, I will personally cut your fucking legs off so your dumbass self can't move ever!" Lovino threatened.

"Aww, Lovi is mad~!" Antonio seemed happy about Lovino's anger.

"Damn it, bastard, I'm trying to take care of you!"

After taking care of the idiot, Antonio, Lovino went to try and beat Feliciano for giving Antonio the idiotic idea of trying to scare him like that. Unfortunately, with all the retreat skills of an Italian, Feliciano was long gone.

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><p><strong>I really didn't expect Alfred to be in the chapter for that long. I just planned on mentioning the ice cream part, then getting Ludwig and Feliciano away. Then I realized, wouldn't Alfred join them if they went to the park?<strong>

**Oh, sorry about making Antonio faint, but I feel like I've made him way too not-sickly so far, so I wanted to show he's still sick. Also, remember there's a small time overlap, where the end of the last chapter is a week after the end of this one. So yeah.**

**See you all next chapter, ciao!**


	6. Chapter 6

**I had pasta for lunch today. It immediately made me think of Italy. My grandma looked at me like I was weird, because I saw the pasta, and immediately said, "Feli~!" Hehehehe.**

**Also, I just found out I've laughed like Prussia since before I found out about Hetalia. "Kesesesesese" No joke. :O**

**Working on that Halloween special already! By the time Halloween comes around, it'll probably be super long!**

**Thank you for all the reviews! If you only saw me each time I read one... I swear, I literally jump around my room and giggle like a maniac... And Prussia, I guess.**

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><p>"I'm leaving now, but I'll come visit soon, ok Lovi?" Antonio announced after Romano finally recovered from the cold (two days earlier than Spain did, he might add!).<p>

Lovino tried to act indifferent. "I don't care, just do what you want," he said, his lips just on the edge of being a pout. It wasn't a pout though, because Lovino didn't pout. Pouting is what his idiot little brother did, and Lovino was much better than that.

Antonio wrapped Lovino in a tight hug. "Aw, don't pout mi tomate~! I'll be back as soon as I can~!" he said, gleefully.

"I'm not pouting, damn it!" Lovino said, but for once made no move to break the embrace. He wasn't going to miss that bastard, of course. No, he definitely wouldn't. It was just that, since he didn't know when they'd see each other again, he was being nice and allowing Antonio to hug him. Yes, that was it, exactly.

"Adios, Lovi~! See you soon~!" Antonio blew him a kiss and shut the door behind him, leaving Lovino alone for the first time in weeks.

The Italian had "caught" the kiss with the intention of throwing it back, but Antonio was already gone. Lovino stared at his clenched fist for a while, as if something really was hidden inside, wondering what to do with it. He looked around the room, but there was no one else there. Slowly, he pressed his fingers to his lips. He frowned. "Damn it, bastard. Why couldn't you just give me a proper good bye kiss? Idiot," he muttered to the empty room.

Lovino wandered around the house, looking for something to do. Each room was a complete mess. The state of disarray was probably from Lovino's tendency to throw things at Antonio when he was being an idiot. He frowned deeply at the sight. As lazy as he was, he disliked being in a messy place. He should probably pick up after himself… But he really didn't feel like it…

"Oi, Fratello!" he called to Feliciano. "Clean the house!"

There was no response. He sighed heavily and left the room he was currently in, making his way to Feliciano's room. Knowing his younger brother, he was probably still asleep. "Fratello! Clean the house, damn it!" he said, entering the room. As expected, it was spotless, but unfortunately it was very empty.

Lovino felt his anger rise. He hated having to go on this search for Feliciano when he could be doing something else. Admittedly, he had nothing else to do, but that wasn't the point. It was the principle of the matter! He slammed his brother's door shut with enough force to hopefully knock down one or two of Feliciano's precious paintings. If Feliciano wasn't in his room, he was probably in the kitchen, making some new kind of pasta he learned about recently. So the kitchen was where Lovino headed next.

"Fratello, where the hell are you?" Lovino demanded when he found the kitchen empty. He hit the wall with his fist to relieve some frustration. First, Antonio was gone, and now his brother was missing. For all he knew, the little idiot could be lying in a ditch somewhere, not even realizing both of his legs were broken, just humming and sitting there.

He was about to leave the kitchen when he noticed two sticky notes on the refrigerator. Lovino stomped over and tore the first one off. It said, "Dear Fratello, Luddy is taking me out on a date today! I'm so excited! We'll go for a walk, go shopping, go eat lunch, and do all sorts of other fun stuff! Anyway, Luddy said I need to stop writing now so we can leave, and you're still asleep, so don't be worried, ok? Ciao! Love, Feliciano."

Lovino tore the note up angrily. "I'm not worried, damn it!" he yelled at the pieces of the note. He tossed them over his shoulder, where they scattered like flower petals and landed on the kitchen floor. Another thing for his irritating brother to clean up after he was done with that potato bastard. "What the hell are you doing with that bastard, damn it!" he yelled, as if Feliciano could hear him from wherever he was.

Now Lovino was in a messy house with no one to clean it. And he sure as hell wasn't doing it himself, especially since his brother was being selfish and leaving Lovino alone in his time of need. So Lovino ordered a pizza, and watched TV until it arrived. When it did, he ate the entire box and knocked it on the ground for good measure. He wasn't sure why he was trying to make cleaning more difficult, but he was in a really bad mood, and knocking things over seemed to help a lot.

"Hmm, there's nothing to do anyway, so I might as well take my siesta early," Lovino said to himself, glancing up at the clock. Truthfully, since it was barely eleven, saying he was taking his siesta early was an understatement, but he didn't really care. Being bored and eating pizza was very exhausting. He closed his eyes and quickly fell asleep.

_It was a pleasant day, in the middle of a field of brightly colored flowers. Lovino found himself lying in the warm dirt, the grass reaching high above him, tickling the sides of his neck and face. High above, the sky was a brilliant blue, the fluffy white clouds dancing in amusing little swirls. It made Lovino remember when he used to stare up at the clouds, trying to find shapes in their cotton bodies, and wondering why everyone loved his younger brother more than him. It was always a depressing thought process, and made Lovino want to purposely act the opposite of his brother, just to spite the world._

_ The pleasantness of the day, in contrast to Lovino's dark mood, just pissed him off even more. He grabbed a clump of grass and threw it in the air irritably, vaguely hoping it would hit the sun and turn the day dark. The grass settled back over his body, like it was making fun of his mood. He brushed it away and sat up._

_ "Where the hell am I?" he asked, looking around the strange field. The scenery left a bad taste in his mouth._

_ "Lovino." Antonio's voice came from behind._

_ Lovino jumped to his feet and spun around. "Bastard, don't scare me like—!" He shut up immediately, seeing the look on Antonio's face._

_ It was the look of a broken man, his face so long and sorrowful it shattered Lovino's heart to see. He was so used to Antonio's cheerful attitude and goofy grin, than seeing Antonio depressed seemed wrong on so many levels._

_ "Antonio, what's wrong?" he asked, taking a step closer and reaching a hand out to touch him._

_ The Spanish nation took a step back, just out of reach. He avoided Lovino's stare, rubbing his arm anxiously. "I've decided to leave. You're always so cold to me… It just hurts too much to be around you," he said. The words dropped in Lovino's heart like a stone on fragile glass. The shards pierced Lovino's insides painfully._

_ "What are you talking about? You know that I love you!" Lovino heard the desperation in his tone. He ran forward and grabbed onto Antonio's shirt, trying to keep him from leaving._

_ Antonio still refused to look at him. "I'm not so sure," he said hesitantly. "Maybe it's better if I just leave for a while…"_

_ "No!" Lovino shouted trying to think of some way to make Antonio stay. He couldn't understand why the older nation was acting like this. "I know! We'll play football! If I win, you stop this ridiculous notion you have about me not loving you! You can't leave me!"_

_ Lovino found himself suddenly in the middle of a football field. Both he and Antonio were dressed in their respective country's uniform. There was no doubt in Lovino's mind that he would win. After all, he always beat Antonio at one-on-one matches. A glimmer of hope rose that he might stop Antonio from leaving him, in the only way he could._

_ "First to ten wins! Go!" Lovino shot forward, feeling the panic rush through his system, driving his limbs to work harder._

_ It was over quickly, but not the way Lovino wanted it to be. Somehow, Antonio beat him without Lovino being able to make a single goal. Lovino fell to his knees as the scenery changed back to the cheerful field. "How could I lose such an important game?" he asked out loud, the tears stinging his eyes threatening to fall. Football was the only thing Lovino was good at, where he wasn't useless. And he couldn't even do it to keep the dearest one to his heart close to him. Lovino felt truly worthless._

_ "Goodbye, Lovino," said Antonio, looking at him with those sad eyes._

_ "No!" Lovino scrambled to his feet and darted forward. "Damn it! I love you! You fucking promised you'd never leave me, bastard! Don't go!" Before he could once again grab hold of Antonio, the Spaniard was gone._

_ All around him, the flowers seemed to wither away and the clouds turned dark and menacing. The sky darkened. Lovino soon found himself in complete blackness. His heart beat wildly, screaming for Antonio._

_ "Damn it, bastard! You promised! You fucking promised me!" Lovino screamed into the void._

Lovino woke with a scream. His heart still pounded in his chest, and his skin was covered in nervous sweat. He blinked several times, trying to bring his mind back to reality. It was a dream, just a dream. Shakily, he sat up. Just breathe, Romano, he told himself. Antonio would never leave me, he promised, and Antonio never breaks his promises, he thought, but couldn't shake the paranoia from his gut. He was awfully cold toward Antonio… Would that one day drive him away? Lovino was afraid that the dream would become reality.

"Could the dream be a warning?" he wondered out loud.

It took all his willpower to stay seated on that couch, and not immediately rush over to Spain to see Antonio. They'd only been apart for a couple hours, after all. After a couple minutes passed, Lovino knew that sitting on the couch wasn't going to help calm his nerves at all. He stood up and started pacing. The dream was still fresh in his mind, and he was seconds away from becoming a trembling mess.

Something squished beneath his foot. He froze. What. The. Hell. His head slowly turned down and he picked up to see what he'd stepped on. A tomato. The sight of the delicious red fruit pummeled and unfit for consumption tore his heart in two. Out of anything he could have stepped on—maybe even broken glass—it had to be one of his precious tomatoes. The loss of the tomato effectively drove the dream from his mind.

"Who the hell left a tomato on the ground?" he exclaimed, running through a list of people in his mind. He seriously doubted it was Antonio, since the Spaniard loved tomatoes just as much as Lovino did. It could have been airheaded Feliciano, who was certainly oblivious and not-tomato-loving enough to leave it on the living room floor. Or…

If it was Ludwig, Lovino was going to murder that potato bastard in the most torturous way possible.

Then his eyes moved to a small creature, whose front half was currently covered in tomato. He glared at it. A sea turtle. That bastard, Antonio, left one of his damn sea turtles at his house. And it'd gotten into his tomatoes, and now he was one tomato short. Damn it!

Lovino was seriously considering stepping on the unfortunate creature. If it was Antonio's pet, it probably developed a similar love for tomatoes, and if he kept it alive, more of his tomatoes would go missing. It wasn't like it couldn't get passed off as an accident. After all, Lovino would never purposely step on a tomato, which was an inch away from the sea turtle. Just one little stomp, and it would be all over.

And he heard turtle soup was very tasty.

His foot was up in the air, and he prepared himself to take the fatal strike at the helpless creature, when another thought occurred to him.

This turtle was Antonio's.

Antonio was currently without a turtle.

Antonio loved turtles almost as much as he loved Lovino.

Antonio was probably going crazy looking for his precious little turtle.

The turtle was an excuse to go visit Antonio.

A dark look crossed over Lovino's face, which caused the tiny turtle to hide in its shell out of fear. The Italian certainly was terrifying in the case that he actually came up with some manipulative plan. He bent down and scooped the turtle up.

"Oh, you lucky, lucky bastard. I was going to make turtle soup out of you, but I guess you'll be much more useful to me in a different way," he said, and laughed in a horribly evil way that was unbefitting of the situation.

After all, he was just going to return a turtle, without harming it in any way.

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><p><strong>Sorrrrrrrry! No Spamano goodness here! But you can count on it next chapter, I swear! I just had to separate them for a little while.<strong>

**Oh, and the dream? I don't know how I feel about that... But it upset me to write it, so I had to take a very long break while I tried to get myself to stop trembling.**

**I just realized yesterday... I didn't put actual tomatoes in the fanfiction until this chapter! I felt so ashamed of myself to forget about Antonio and Lovino's shared obssession! *facepalm***

**Anyway, until next time, ciao!**


	7. Chapter 7

**I had pasta for two chapters in a row! How crazy is that? I managed not to scream out anything strange, though so it's totally fine!**

**I saw the Hetalia movie, Paint it White, last night. Can't believe Romano only got two seconds of screen time! T-T But I loved it, and Italy was just too cute! :D**

**I watched the first 3 parts of HetaOni yesterday, too. D: That's just... I found spoilers and the plot... Just, I don't know what to say about it... It was very upsetting, so I had to walk away from my computer a lot. I don't deal with horror/tragedy well. And today I was looking up fanart, and I thought I was going to start hyperventilating or something. Gosh, so emotional.**

**Anyway, that's all for me! Please enjoy!**

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><p>Either Lovino's heart was beating way too fast, or the baby turtle in his breast pocket was trembling. He wasn't sure which option he preferred. On one hand, Lovino liked to think of himself as brave (the countless times he'd retreated were only examples of self-preservation, not cowardice, because Lovino Vargas was a proud Italian, with the heart of a lion!) and a racing heart was definitely not brave. On the other hand, turtles gave him the creeps (every brave warrior had a fear, of course!). He didn't like to think of the tiny creature squirming around so close to his skin. The thought made him shiver.<p>

He decided to just ignore the source of the pounding against his chest and to focus on travelling instead. Travelling to Spain took way too long. Why did that bastard's nation have to be so far away from his?

The many hours required to get there gave Lovino too much time to think. Particularly about the disturbing dream he had during his nap. It bothered him greatly. Antonio had promised to never leave Lovino, and that carefree idiot certainly did keep his promises. Somehow, though, the knowledge of Antonio's general trustworthiness didn't provide him any comfort.

His stomach growled viciously, breaking him from his thoughts. Lovino laid a hand over his needy stomach with a sigh, remembering that he hadn't eaten in hours.

The baby turtle stuck its head out of Lovino's pocket, obviously curious as to what the noise was. The sight of the turtle made him shiver a bit (but only a bit!).

He glared down at the turtle. "It's all your fault, making me step on a tomato, and then being Antonio's turtle so I can't make soup out of you! Damn it," he groaned, dropping his head back. The turtle wisely ducked its head back into the confines of his pocket, and probably its shell.

Lovino wasn't in the mood to allow the turtle solitude, however, no matter how much he hated turtles. He dug his fingers into his pocket, grimacing when they grazed the slick shell, and pulled the tiny creature out. It remained firmly inside its shell, and seemed to be in no mood to come out.

"What the hell does that idiot see in turtles anyway?" Lovino muttered to himself, turning the shell around to examine every side. "There's nothing special about turtles. They just eat and sleep all day, and you can't even tell if it's a boy or girl."

He stuck his finger in where he was pretty sure the head was hidden. "Why don't you come out at all?" he asked it crossly.

For a response, he received a sharp pain in his finger. "Argh, damn it!" he cried, dropping the turtle suddenly. "You bit me!"

After a quick glance over his finger, it was obvious the only wound he'd received was a slight redness over the skin. Even so, Lovino glared murderously at the offending creature. He considered destroying the turtle there and then, before it could ever reach its owner. Screw Antonio. Lovino reached for it, thinking about all the different ways you could kill a turtle. Maybe he would have turtle soup after all.

But he was almost to Spain.

Lovino sighed. "Lucky bastard," he said, picking the turtle back up and returning it to his pocket. He'd come so far already. It would be a waste to get rid of the only excuse he had for visiting Antonio on such short notice.

He hated those damn turtles, but they could be useful.

They arrived at Antonio's house without any further incidents, or murderous thoughts. By the time they actually reached the front porch, however, he was nearly out of breath. That tomato-eating bastard had way too many steps leading up to his house. That was probably why Antonio was always in such good shape. He shook his head quickly to cut off the train of thought such musings would inevitably lead.

Lovino hesitated before reaching up and knocking on the door.

"Coming~!" he heard Antonio sing from inside the house.

Moments later, the door flung open to Antonio's expectant face. The expression quickly changed to surprise and then glee when he saw it was Lovino standing at his door. Lovino's visits were always a happy occasion, no matter how soon they occurred after just seeing him.

"Lovi! Why are you here?" Antonio asked, stepping aside to allow Lovino into the house.

Lovino came inside, and pulled the turtle out of its hiding place. "You left this thing at my place," he said, frowning.

The smile on Antonio's face became unbelievably wide. "Rosalinda! You brought her!" he exclaimed, relieving Lovino of his most hated charge.

"Rosalinda?" What kind of ridiculous name was that? "How can you tell it's a girl?"

Antonio gave him a quizzical look. "What do you mean? Can't you tell just by looking?" the Spaniard asked, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Lovino flushed. "Of course I can! I just wanted to know if you could tell!" he defended himself quickly.

Antonio gave a bright laugh. "I'll be back, I'm going to put Rosalinda with her friends!" he said, and with a tweak of Lovino's curl he disappeared from the room.

The sudden rush of heat from the small bat of his curl made Lovino gasp. He clenched and unclenched his fists. "Damn it! I told him not to touch my curl!"

Seconds later, Antonio returned. "Thank you for bringing Rosalinda back, Lovi~!" he said gratefully, wrapping his arms around the Italian's waist.

Another rush of heat. "L—let go of me, idiot," Lovino said.

Antonio's arms tightened until his grip was almost uncomfortable. "No. I don't want to let go," he said, his voice cracking.

Lovino's heart froze. Normally, Antonio was so happy to see him. "What's wrong?" he asked tentatively, almost afraid of the answer. His dream rose to the front of his mind. He tried to push it away, reminding himself that this wasn't the same situation, but the paranoia stubbornly remained.

"I—I don't ever want to lose you, Lovi." The stutter in his voice frightened Lovino more than his mood change. Even when Antonio was upset, he never lost control of his own voice.

Lovino laughed nervously, hoping to lighten the mood, which had suddenly become too heavy for him to bear. "What are you talking about, idiot? We've only been apart for half a day," he reminded Antonio, although he'd had the same fears.

"Do you love me, Lovi?"

"Of course I do, idiot! I've said it so many times before!" Lovino quickly reassured him.

Antonio's grip tightened just a bit more then loosened slightly. "I know… It's just… I don't know…"

"What's gotten into you?" Lovino asked quietly, placing his hands over Antonio's, trying to comfort him in anyway he could. The younger nation couldn't help but see the irony in the situation. He'd come to Spain, hoping to be comforted by Antonio, but it was the other way around now.

"I'll tell you, but… Don't laugh," Antonio said tentatively. The worry in Lovino's heart increased, seeing how out-of-character his lovable idiot was being.

"I won't. Tell me what's wrong," Lovino agreed.

Antonio took a moment to answer. They were rocking side-to-side as Antonio readied himself to speak. He must really be worried about whatever it is, if he's swaying like this, Lovino noted, and bit his lip in anticipation.

"Well, on the plane, I took a nap. And I had this… Dream… In it, you said you didn't need me anymore. You told me how much you hated how I always clung to you, and never left you alone. And then you just left," Antonio explained briefly.

Lovino turned around so they were face to face. He linked his arms around Antonio's neck and stood on tiptoe to bring their foreheads together. "You know I don't hate you. Ti amo. So much that I can't bear the thought of being away from you," he whispered, and gently pressed his lips to Antonio's.

The kiss was over before it could escalate into anything more. "Te amo, Lovi," Antonio whispered lovingly. "Te amo mucho."

After a couple minutes, Lovino finally broke their embrace. His dream was still bothering him. "Hey, idiot, let's play some football while I'm here," he said, trying to sound innocent, although his heart pounded when he asked. For some inconceivable reason, Lovino felt he had to beat Antonio in this one game of football before he could rest easily.

Antonio gave him a strange look, but if he suspected any ulterior motives behind Lovino's request, he didn't say anything. "Ok, let's go into the back yard," he said.

A few minutes later, they stood in the center of Antonio's large backyard. Their impromptu goals rested only inches away from the tomato plants that bordered the grassy area. A ball rested between them. They watched each other for a few moments, with Lovino's heart picking up its frantic tempo as they remained unmoving.

"Ready?" Antonio asked.

Lovino nodded tensely. "First to ten," he said breathlessly. The score limit felt too much like his nightmare, but he couldn't bring himself to change it.

Antonio nodded his agreement. "Fine, then. Ready, go!"

They launched forward at each other. Lovino managed to get the ball halfway to Antonio's goal, before Antonio stole the ball. A small flutter of panic rose in his chest, and he shot after the ball. Just before he could regain possession, Antonio kicked the ball to make the first goal of the game.

Antonio probably noticed the devastated look in Lovino's eyes, because he smiled gently and said, "There's still plenty of time to win, Lovi."

Lovino nodded. That was true. It was just one goal. Nothing earth-shattering.

Three goals later, all made by Antonio, Lovino wasn't so sure. With the score four to zero, it was really beginning to seem like a nightmare brought to life. He bit his lip.

"Come on, Lovino! You can do it!" Antonio cheered, batting at Lovino's sensitive curl playfully.

The blush it caused brought Lovino back to his senses. "Bastard! Don't touch my curl!" he yelled.

Antonio laughed—a light, bubbly sound. "Make me!" he challenged, like he always did when they competed against each other.

Lovino grinned, his blood rushing in excitement. "I'll kick your ass!" he threatened.

Antonio held a hand out and beckoned tauntingly. "Bring it on, Lovi~!" he said with a wink.

There was no way in hell he was going to let Antonio get away. Newly motivated, Lovino threw himself back into the game with zeal. Soon, the score was tied, nine to nine.

"Last goal," Antonio panted. Both were out of breath and flushed from exertion. Football was a game where they gave their all, no matter who the opponent was.

Lovino nodded, breathing just as hard as Antonio was. "Yeah," e said. No matter what the outcome was now, Lovino wasn't worried. He was having fun, with his beloved, and the dream took a back seat to that immense pleasure.

"Let's go!" Antonio shouted as he ran forward. Lovino did as well, but he tripped, and Antonio took off with the ball.

"Mierda!" Lovino muttered, scrambling to his feet. "Mierda, mierda, mierda!"

By some stroke of luck, he managed to gain the ball, and put all of his energy into getting to Antonio's goal. It wasn't enough, however, and Antonio regained possession. The Spaniard scored the final goal before Lovino had time to blink.

Lovino collapsed were he was, completely spent. Antonio found the energy to stagger over to him. He grinned. "Good game, Lovi," he said, holding out a hand.

The Italian grinned back up at him. "Good game, bastard," he said playfully, shaking Antonio's hand briefly before allowing the taller nation to help him up.

They made their way inside. "Are you going to stay for dinner?" Antonio asked.

Lovino nodded. "Sure, but I can't stay the night. Fratello will get worried, and hunt me down, and be annoying as hell when he finds me," he said.

Antonio grinned. "Good enough for me!" he said.

Over dinner, as Lovino was working through a huge helping of paella, Antonio asked, "Why were you so upset at the beginning of the game today?"

Lovino stilled. He hadn't really wanted to tell Antonio about his dream. Pushing the remainder of his food away, he took a deep breath before answering. It was only fair, since Antonio told him about _his_ dream.

"You told me I was too cold, and that you didn't believe me when I said that I loved you. So we played football and if I won you would stay. I lost, though. I just felt so useless, that I couldn't even do something I'm _good _at for the one I love," Lovino said slowly, choosing his words carefully.

Antonio stared. "Why didn't you tell me?" he asked. "I told you about my dream."

"I didn't want you to lose on purpose," Lovino replied.

"I wouldn't have!" Antonio lied quickly.

Lovino shrugged. "Whatever, it's over now." He grinned. "Next time I'll pound your sorry ass into the ground!" he vowed.

Antonio laughed. "I'd like to see you try!"

Dinner passed by much too quickly, and Lovino was reluctant to leave. Antonio stood by the door to see him off. "Are you sure you don't want to stay the night? You can always just call Feli from here," Antonio said.

Lovino shook his head. It was already dark, and Feliciano was probably already panicking over the older Italian brother's disappearance. "I really should go. Huge travel ahead of me; and you've got to do some work," he said.

Antonio smiled. "I'll miss you, Lovi~! Please come see me soon~!" he said.

The Italian nodded. "Of course, how could I even get you out of my head, tomato bastard?" Lovino said as he began down the steps.

That when things suddenly went horribly wrong.

He'd stepped wrong on the ledge, and his foot slipped down the steps. The rest of his body followed, and he quickly lost his balance. He yelped as he fell down the long flight of stairs. At the top of the steps, he heard Antonio running forward, calling his name. Then Lovino's head hit the cement, hard, and he fell into darkness.

Antonio was in the emergency waiting room for god knows how long. He muttered to himself in rapid Spanish, beside himself with worry. Every time a doctor stepped into the waiting room, he froze like a deer caught in headlights, watching them expectantly, and every time it was always for someone else. The doctors began to give him pitying looks whenever they entered or left the room.

He paced back and forth, biting one of his fingers as he talked to himself under his breath. "Ay, Dios mio, Lovi. Por favor, Lovi, vive. Ay, mi bonito tomate, por favor. Romanito."

Most of the other few people in the emergency room ignored him. They had their own problems to worry about—loved ones who were sick or dying. They were just like him, waiting for news, whether it was good or bad. Antonio had the advantage of knowing that Lovino wouldn't die no matter what. Not with his country as strong as it was. Or would that even matter? After all, there were two Italies…

No! He had to have faith! His Lovi had to be alright! He couldn't lose his precious little tomate before they ever had the chance to consummate their love.

Finally, the doctor, the one who was overseeing Lovino, emerged. His grim face made Antonio stop in his tracks and his heart stopped beating.

"He's awake, and can take visitors now," he said, with that carefully schooled voice that didn't give anything away.

Antonio nodded, relieved. "So I can see him?"

"Yes, but he's… Confused…" the doctor said, but Antonio didn't hear anything after being granted permission to see Lovino.

The doctor led him to where Lovino was waiting, and where they would keep him overnight to observe his progress. The Italian looked up at them as they entered, a look of confusion painting his features. It was so strangely innocent that it was all Antonio could do to keep himself from violently hugging Lovino to death.

Instead, he knelt down by Lovino's bed, taking the pale hand in both of his own. "Lovi, how are you feeling?" he asked gently, on the verge of tears.

There was no hint of recognition in the Italian's features. If anything, the confusion increased. Then Lovino said the worst thing Antonio could have heard, short of news of his lover's untimely death.

"Who are you?"

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><p><strong>Guess who just found herself a plot? I am not going to leave you guys hanging like that, I swear! I write a sequal, with a title like, "Forget Me Not" or "Love is Never Forgotten". So expect it in the next couple days, yes?<strong>

**Horrible twist ending? Nah, I didn't kill him... But yeah! Sorry sorry sorry! Until next time!**

**Ciao!**

**THE END!**


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